"I need to go home," I said, finally finding my voice, though it was no more than a desperate whisper. "My home. Alone."
His phone suddenly buzzed. "Mr. Powell. Donovan is here to see you."
Royce stormed to his desk and jabbed a button. "I need a few more minutes." He released the button and said to me, "You want me. I see the desire in your eyes."
"So?"
"So?" he asked, incredulous. He stepped around his desk, closing the distance between us again. "So you want to walk away from that? Pretend there's nothing between us? Well, I won't let you."
He must have changed his mind about waiting for my consent because he suddenly reached behind my head, clutched the hair at my nape and, in one swift movement, jerked me back into his embrace.
I didn't try to deny him. I couldn't. Our tongues met in a tangled clash, hot, wet. Wild. The kiss went on and on, pure passion.
It was a mistake, unbuttoning his shirt, but I did it anyway. Was helpless to do anything else. I had to touch him. My hands dipped inside the material. Warm skin. A small patch of soft, downy chest hair. How could I have known he'd feel so good? So much like a warrior? All muscle, like velvet poured over hot steel.
With a rough push, Royce sent my jacket whipping to the ground. The brown material pooled at our feet. Next he jerked at the buttons on my blouse, shoved the folds aside and got his first glimpse of my green satin bra.
He rumbled low in his throat, primal, eager man. He looked at the bra. Looked at me. Looked at the bra. All the while, the blaze grew hotter and hotter in his eyes. "Green. Yes, you want me." He shoved the satin aside, exposing the peaks of my nipples. His breath caught. "You have the most perfect nipples I've ever seen. They're pink and ripe as little berries."
I licked my lips. "Stop saying things like that."
"Why? Because they excite you?" With a sultry chuckle, he kissed me, cupped one of my breasts, kneaded it, rolled the nipple between his fingers. At the first expert touch of his palm, I groaned. I couldn't believe we were doing this in his office, where anyone outside the door could hear us.
His lips tore from mine, and he arched me backward, letting his hot tongue tantalize my nipple. One hand moved over me, skimming the swell of my hips. "Don't think of anything except how I make you feel," he murmured against my heated flesh.
I wasn't.
He sucked my nipple into his mouth. My body jerked and I almost came right then. My hands slid through his hair, clasping him to me in a tight, you're-not-going-anywhere grip.
"Royce, I-"
He sucked harder.
I gasped, arching my back farther, wanting more, needing more-until the phone buzzed, allowing a single, solitary thought to slip unbidden into my mind: This is more than a kiss, Naomi. You're about to step straight into a sexual relationship. With a client.
"Mr. Powell," Elvira said.
My blood went from molten to ice cold in mere seconds. How could I have let this happen? I'd thought to allow myself one last kiss, yet this was so much more. I'd known better, known this would be the result, but I hadn't let common sense prevail.
I wrenched away, disengaging from him completely, panting. "I, um, have to stop now."
The phone buzzed. "Mr. Powell?"
The fine lines around Royce's eyes and mouth were already taut, but they tightened further. I could tell he wanted to grab me, to tumble me back into his embrace. But he must have read my determination to resist him in the hard stance of my body.
"I'll let you go for now, but we're not finished, Naomi." Aroused fire beamed from his eyes as he took a menacing step toward me. Another. "In fact," he purred dangerously, "we've only just begun."
With shaky limbs, I whirled away from Royce and righted my clothing. I picked up my jacket from the floor and slipped my arms through the openings. "Lucky us, we found the beginning and the end in the same day. I just… l can't be with you," I said. It was a plea for him to understand.
"Can't." His expression lost some of its heat. In fact, he looked positively arctic. "Or won't?"
The phone buzzed yet again. "Mr. Powell?"
He stormed back to his desk, slammed a finger into a button and barked, "I said I need a goddamn minute. I'll let you know when to send him in."
"Well?" he said to me.
He wanted to hear that my lips ached for the return of his, that I felt lost and unsure without his arms around me. It was true, but I couldn't say it aloud. If he knew how close I was to giving in, he'd pounce and I wouldn't be able to deny him. And I could wave my rules goodbye.
I didn't turn to face him when I said, "Won't."
A heavy pause.
"I don't understand you," he said, exasperated and angry. "I don't understand how you can be so hot for me, then turn so cold."
This time, I did face him. I whirled, glaring, pointing at his chest. "That's right. You don't understand me because you don't know me. You don't know my life. You don't know my past. I won't get involved with you, Royce."
His features softened just as the sunlight streaming in from the window hit him at the perfect angle, casting him in a glowing halo. "I know you're strong and honest and you fight for what you want. Well, fight for me."
I almost-almost, damn it-capitulated then and there. I swear, I was changing my mind lately more than I changed my underwear. Those words of his…that quiet beseeching…I don't think I'd ever heard anything quite so beautiful. He was the first person ever to call me strong. And I responded to that on a primal level.
"I can't," I whispered, and saying it was even harder than pulling away from him had been.
"Why not?" He threw his hands in the air. "Help me understand, so that I can help you accept what's between us."
How easy he made it sound. How tempting. Work through your concerns and we can be together. I closed my eyes, as one horrible fear after another flitted through me. The way men cheated and lied and lost interest in their woman. The late-night phone calls, the "business trips."
"Tell me," he said softly.
If I told him about Richard the Bastard's infidelity, I'd also have to admit to my own stupidity. My own weakness. How many times had I taken Richard back? How many times had I allowed him to treat me like garbage? Royce had just admitted he thought of me as strong and capable, a fighter. I absolutely did not want him to change his view. Did not want him to see me as a doormat.
"There's nothing to tell," I said, staring down at my intertwined hands. "I'm just not interested."
"Is this a game?" He scowled over at me. "Are you playing hard to get, trying to tie me in knots so you're all I can think about? If so, it's worked. I admit it, you're always on my mind. I dream about you, crave you constantly."
I wanted to cover my ears. I wanted to run. I wanted to stay. "Don't tell me that." I shook my head, strands of hair falling at my temples. "Don't say stuff like that."
"Why not? It's true."
"I'm unavailable to you," I said, desperate to believe anything but what he was saying. Capitulation was not an option for me. Not with this man, and not about the future. Because he affected me more than even Richard had, that made him far more dangerous. "You're simply responding to the challenge. That's all."
"You're wrong. I want to marry you. And that has nothing to do with you being a challenge."
My stomach dropped. I think my vision went black for a moment. My throat closed up and all I could say was, "You want to marry me?" The words emerged as nothing more than a croak.
"Yes."
"You've only known me a few weeks, and you want to marry me?" Louder now. "You've never been on a date with me, and you want to marry me?" Louder still.